


Vintage Cars, Panoramic Photos, and Neon Starlight

by rainbowcowboy



Series: Rainbowcowboy's AUs [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Overwatch, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Monsters, Multi, Route 66 (Overwatch), Strangers to Lovers, no one's entirely human, surreal shit, the omnic crisis still happened though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowcowboy/pseuds/rainbowcowboy
Summary: Hanzo and Genji set out on what was supposed to be a quick stakeout for photography spots in some corner of the Mojave desert. When their simple plan goes inexplicably wrong, they find themselves in an upside-down place where the rules of nature don't apply and strange creatures lurk in the darkness. They come across new friends-and maybe something more- while trying to make sense of their new world. Fear and comfort go together, after all.Sometimes, it is easier to watch in awe than to try an understand a magician's act.





	1. 90s Music Kills, Kids

The two brothers were lost. Horribly, utterly, hopelessly lost. Hanzo had known as soon as the GPS in their hand-me-down car had started to point to roads that didn't exist that the expedition wasn't going to turn out well, but even he couldn’t imagine it was going to end up like this. 

What was supposed to be a short adventure had started off well enough, Hanzo dragging Genji out of their cramped apartment and into what the younger Shimada had dubbed “Crusty-ass Middle of Nowhere”. It was supposed to be a quick expedition, just drive the way Hanzo had planned out on an ancient paper map he had found of the area, take a couple quick pictures in the spots he had chosen, and return to civilization with a most likely grumpy Genji by his side.

He packed everything he thought he needed; a couple bottles of mineral water, various flavors of protein bars, a flashlight in case he found an abandoned building that he wanted to explore was dark inside, extra batteries for his camera, and his holopad. Hanzo had no real reason for bringing Genji along, the green-haired troublemaker definitely wasn’t a necessary supply, but Hanzo wanted to get his brother some sunlight and would prefer to have someone with him in the ghost towns along Route 66. 

The first leg of the journey went as Hanzo expected. Genji grumbled about being forced to spend time with his brother (“In the middle of a desert, no less!”), but shut up as soon as the duo reached the first selected location. The place in question was a silent ghost town, a monument to the half-hearted attempts at civilization in a ruthless desert. Decades ago, the tiny collection of buildings barely large enough to be called a town would have served as a rest stop for antsy road-trippers and truckers making their way across the country. Now, the buildings lay discarded like a child’s forgotten toys, colors faded from what appeared as an eternity in the unrelenting sun. Doors stood ajar, as if the hinges forgot their purpose when the people that kept this place alive gave up hope and left, and particles of red desert dust had gotten into every nook and cranny, inside and outside of the haunting homes and stores. Squat little cacti and clumps of desert grass poked up from every sidewalk crack, but never in the ground where they should be growing. Underneath the sparse leaves, insects that Genji nicknamed “Heat Bugs” emitted an unending, untiring shriek. Their mournful, piercing cry didn’t fade when the brothers cautiously made their way inside of a hollow, rotting convenience store. 

Hanzo wore his camera loose around his neck the whole time, but he rarely raised it and took a photo. Instead, he and Genji walked around the once traffic-filled town, only speaking to warn the other of a particularly spiny cactus or a ceiling that looked too close to caving in to be comfortable. They padded through dusty, forgotten structure after structure, wincing each time one took a step too loud, and tossed up a puff of dirt that rose to their ankles, then dissolved. Only three times did Hanzo raise his camera to his eye and quickly snap a photo, hating how the shutter click echoed like a gunshot around the vacant space.

They walked in an almost trancelike state, eyes peeled for the Perfect Shot. Hanzo always liked to take few pictures in the places he visited, instead opting for searching around in deep silence, until he found the Perfect Shot. The Perfect Shot always lay in unexpected places, and it was never the same. But Hanzo always knew when he found the Perfect Shot, and he always found it.  
In this instance, the Perfect Shot was an old, tossed out couch, colored obnoxious gold. Even after decades of sitting out in the weathering sun and getting worn and scuffed by harsh, sandy winds, shreds of the original shininess of the piece of furniture still showed. It crouched low, close to the uneven pavement. The horrible glimmer of the couch stood out shockingly against the sun bleached gas station behind it. It was delightfully weird, and that was exactly what Hanzo was going for. He moved his camera to his eye so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash, and unceremoniously snapped at least ten photos in quick succession. 

Genji looked over at the older Shimada, bemused. “Perfect shot?”

“Perfect shot,” Hanzo nodded, settling his camera back onto his chest. Genji snorted, watching how gently his older brother handled the device.

“You treat that thing like it’s a baby,” he scoffed, a sly smirk on his face

Hanzo raised his arms in mock defense. “She is my baby,” he deadpanned, making Genji laugh out loud and break the silence. With that, they made their way back to their car, teasing and chatting as if they had been doing so the whole time.

Once the duo returned to their wonderful, air-conditioned car, Hanzo practically melted into his seat. He only moved after five seconds to stop his brother from cranking up the AC to polar temperatures. His skin felt like it had developed an extra, leathery layer, and for a single irrational moment he wondered if he was turning into a lizard. He was never built for spending time in the sun, he never had been, and only now he realized he had left his tube of 70 SPF sitting on the kitchen table, forgotten. He groaned inwardly about how stupid he could have been to forget sunscreen, most likely the single most important thing for a pale, Japanese man to bring to the middle of the Southwestern American desert.  
Genji dragged him from his thoughts by swatting at his wrist. “Are we just going to sit here, or are we going to actually move?” He demanded.

“Always so impatient, brother,” Hanzo chided.

Genji rolled his eyes.“I just want to get out of this desert. I can feel my arm starting to malfunction in this heat.” Hanzo looked at Genji’s prosthetic, searching for anything wrong. As expected, there were no signs of anything out of the ordinary. Obviously. The device was built to withstand extreme temperatures.

They set off again, driving through what Hanzo swore was a looping track of scenery that repeated every five minutes. But, the GPS said they were moving forward, so Hanzo told himself he was just being paranoid. He turned the radio on to a random station to distract himself and also to silence Genji, who had been complaining about sitting still almost as soon as they had set off from the ghost town. The station turned out to be hits from the 80’s and 90’s, and the two brothers crowed along to songs no one knew anymore, songs that sounded like childhood, and vague memories of vague places. Songs that they’d never heard before, but that they knew every word to. They sang in Japanese and English, not caring how offbeat the words became when translated to another language. They sang loud and joyfully, almost as if they were trying to cover the sounds of a threat, the way some people laugh when terrified. Every now and then Hanzo would glance at the GPS, noticing markers and names of places that weren’t there, and roads that simply didn’t exist. But, just like everything else, he glazed it over in his mind, and sang along to the bouncy sounds of the radio even louder.

And then the car stopped.

There wasn’t any warning, no signs of the engine slowing down or the internal controls locking up for safety reasons, and they still had half a battery-charge. The car just… stopped. The glowing displays of the dashboard flickered, then fizzled out completely. The pumping synthesizer that blared from the car’s speakers cut off abruptly, leaving the two brothers sitting in complete silence. Genji sat, eyes unfocused, still coming off the dopamine high of breathlessly belting song after song. Hanzo slumped over, dazed, until a wave of anxiety rushed in to fill the void the music had left.

They were in the middle of a desert, with only a couple bottles of water and some protein bars, with no idea where they were. The car they were driving had stopped for no reason, which meant the air conditioning no longer worked, which meant that they would die of heatstroke if they stayed in there. Outside the car, there were coyotes, unrelenting winds, and a vicious sun they had no protection from. Now sitting bolt straight, Hanzo whipped out his holopad to see with dismay: no service. He must have looked as shaken as he felt, because Genji asked, “Anija? You ok?”

Hanzo took a deep breath to steady himself, the replied, “Yeah, I just… yeah. Why do you think the car stopped?”

“I honestly have no idea. Did you see how much battery charge was left before it shut down?

“Half, last time I checked.”

The younger Shimada swore in various languages, then pushed open the car door and stepped outside. Hanzo watched from behind the windshield as Genji opened the hood of the car, and started to look inside. He had been working as a mechanic, after all, so Hanzo assumed he knew what he was doing (for the most part).

Genji looked completely bewildered. He had stopped searching the engine for problems, and had began simply staring blankly at the machinery under the hood. After a good thirty seconds of complete and utter confusion, he plodded over to Hanzo’s side of the car and violently threw open the door.

“Get your lazy ass out here and look at this.”

Hanzo accompanied his brother out to the front of the car, where the opened hood revealed a perfectly fine looking engine. Hanzo shook his head, puzzled. “I don’t see anything wrong with it”, he said, his voice curling up at the end of his statement, making it seem like he was asking himself a question.

“Exactly. The car stopped, for no goddamn reason, in the middle of the Mojave desert,” Genji explained, a mix of paranoia and exasperation in his voice. “If we’re lucky, the coyotes will find us before we die of heatstroke.”

Instinctively, Hanzo turned his eyes up to the cloudless sky, expecting to find a blazing sun. He saw, at a glance, the sun… wasn’t in the sky? No, it was there, but low in the sky, about to dip below the reddish-brown hills. Since when was it sunset? And exactly how long had they been driving? Hanzo had no recollection of being on the road for longer than an hour, but the big, round sun had gone from bright and high in the sky, to low and blurred, flaming to simmering. In that exact moment, Hanzo came to a sickening realization made his heart turn to rock and sink to his shoes: he had absolutely no idea where he, or his brother, or his now broken down car, were. They were alone, lost, and horribly underprepared in the middle of an unforgiving desert.  
A new problem wormed its way up past everything else clattering around in Hanzo’s head; The sun would set soon, turning the penetrative, warm winds to cold gusts. Hanzo had spent enough time casually drinking on his apartment balcony in Tucson to know how unforgiving night could get in Arizona, let alone the desert. He turned to Genji and asked, already knowing the answer, “I know you didn’t bring a jacket, but did you happen to bring a jacket or something warm?”

Genji looked at him like he had suddenly grown another eye. “Anija, why would I bring something warm on a road trip through the desert?”

“You wouldn’t, unless you can see the future. The sun is about to set, and I don’t think our clothes are going to be enough to keep out the cold.”

Genji whirled around to look at the rapidly disappearing sun, then back at Hanzo. “How long were we driving?” 

Hanzo hummed, considering the question. Unable to produce a sound answer, he replied, “Long enough to get from about high noon to sunset.”

Genji tossed a piece of acid green hair out of his face. “Wow, thanks. What’re we gonna do now?” He looked a bit apprehensive, but mostly annoyed with the situation Hanzo had gotten him in.  
That made Hanzo stop for a moment and think. He and his brother had two real options: A) try and get the car working again and drive home or B) set off walking along the road and hope they weren’t too far from a rest town. Hanzo was leaning towards option A, until he heard a huff from behind him. “The car is still levitating. Why didn’t the levs stop when everything else did? Everything about this is so fucking wrong,” Genji mumbled. Hanzo thought his brother was addressing him, but Genji was back at the front of the vehicle, hands placed firmly on his hips. 

There went option A. If the levs were still fully operational while the rest of the car sat rendered useless, something was so wrong that Genji’s beginner knowledge of automobile repair couldn't possibly fix their ride home. 

Option B was just about the opposite of safe, but it was just about the only choice the brothers had at this point. Hanzo sighed, a sort of mental reset, and informed Genji bluntly, “We must start walking before the sun sets fully. I assume we’re more than halfway to the next rest town, at least, and there we’ll be able to call a pickup or at least find out where we are.” 

His brother eyed him skeptically. “You actually think that’ll work?” He said, ending the question with a snort.

“See any better options?”

“Good point.”

And so began the second leg of the brothers descent into the absurd, the deranged, the surreal.


	2. Do I Look Like a Compass to You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which genji is an annoying little shit.

So many thoughts and emotions bombarded the sides of Genji’s skull it was overwhelming. One part of him felt more at peace than he had felt in years. The reddish hills that rose to his east shrouded all but a sliver of the sinking sun, and to the west there was an endless expanse of flat desert freckled with shrubs. The sunset bathed everything in reddish-golden light and threw elongated shadows across the dusty ground. The air was that perfect mixture of warm, static temperatures and cool gusts. The sound of wind rustling through the desert plants was like a lullaby. He swore he could hear the twinkling of wind chimes somewhere. It felt like the cracked, dry ground and sharp-leaved shrubs were singing to him, pulling him into a trance. He would make easier prey that way.

Another part of his mind screamed at the raw, unfiltered  _ wrong _ of the situation. He, and his idiot brother, were trekking across some part of the Mojave, with no bearing on where they were, no cell reception, and no means of transportation other than their own two legs. Genji glanced behind him and noticed, with a wave of dread, that their inoperative car had disappeared beyond the horizon. He couldn’t help but let the irrational, anxious part of his mind speak, and he listened to the tiny whisperings of doubts; that the two of them wouldn’t find a town, that they’d starve out in the desert, or freeze, or suffer some other horrible death.

Yet another part of him was just irritated. Hanzo had gone and dragged him out into practically the middle of nowhere, and now  _ he  _ had to walk along the side of the road and carry all the water bottles and protein bars that his brother had packed. His feet were already beginning to protest, and the warm air was quickly turning icy. He could die out here, and it was all because of the stubborn idiot he was so unfortunately related to. No one would remember him, and if Genji died, then Hanzo would definitely die as well. 

In an attempt to get his brother’s attention so he could whine at him, Genji kicked an uprooted chunk of road as hard as he could. It went farther than he even knew was possible, and settled a ways up ahead next to the trunk of some desert tree Genji didn’t know the name of. Hanzo threw him an annoyed glare, then huffed and questioned, “What was that for?”

“This is all your fault,” Genji spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I hate you.”

“Glad the feeling is mutual.” Damn Hanzo and his smart-ass comebacks. They trudged on in silence. Genji refused to meet his brother’s eyes; Stubborn idiot deserved it. 

Hanzo broke the silence. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Genji turned to stare at Hanzo incredulously, and snapped, “you asked a  _ rhetorical _ question and you _ know it.  _ I kicked that because I’m mad that I’m hiking through some desert where I could  _ fucking die  _ and-” Genji was cut off my the sudden feeling of pins-and-needles in his right shoulder, from his armpit to his collarbone; the exact sensation he felt when taking off his prosthetic arm.  _ Oh no. _

His right arm, which he had previously been waving in the air angrily, was now hanging limp at his side. He tried to clench his fist. The only response he got was a pitiful twitch in his ring finger. He tried to raise his arm, to the same result. Just a twitch.

“Did your… arm just shut down?” Hanzo asked tentatively, with fear in his voice that put Genji more on edge than he already was. Something must be very wrong, because Hanzo rarely showed when he was afraid. 

Genji tried to find a response that wouldn’t cause his brother any more anxiety than he surely already felt, and eventually settled for something comedic. “Again with the rhetorical questions, Hanzo! Yes, for some reason my arm just died. Got any genius ideas on how to fix it?” He winced inwardly, realizing how harsh he sounded. 

      Hanzo’s eyes flicked down to his feet and he mumbled an apology in Japanese. Yes, something was  _ definitely  _ wrong. Hanzo rarely felt shame, and if he did, he only apologized if he was damaging his own honor in some way. Genji gulped, his mouth suddenly gone dry. He glanced at the sinking sun, barely peeking over the horizon, then huffed and started walking down the highway again. His gait was awkwardly off balance due to the the dead weight now attached to his shoulder.

Hanzo hesitated for a few seconds, before continuing after his brother.

Genji was unsure of just how long they were walking. In the beginning, time felt like a thick jelly, but after a while it began to rush by like fine dirt through a desperate miner’s sift. After what felt like thirty minutes, only shreds of the sunset were left lingering on the horizon. After what felt like another thirty minutes, the moon was almost at its peak in the star-speckled sky. He was so tired. His legs, feet, useless limb, all ached and sent dull spikes of pain into his core with each step. After some amount of time, Genji stopped counting a while ago, he just went numb. And  _ holy fuck _ , it was so cold. Genji had no idea a desert could even get that cold. Aren’t deserts supposed to be hot and dry? Hanzo wouldn’t even let him drink water to help his parched throat, because they “ _ Needed to save their rations _ ”.

Soon, Genji stopped feeling like a person and more like a lump of Jello. Useless, and tasty. The fear of freezing to death, or dying of hunger or thirst, slipped from his mind and was replaced with fear of a more...toothy end. He could practically feel the red, beady eyes of a hungry coyote on his back, always watching. Multiple times he swore he saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes. Once he felt a breath on his neck. Despite the biting cold, he was sweating from fear and exhaustion.

Salvation came in the form of a faint spot of light on the horizon. Genji almost cried with relief when Hanzo weakly pointed a finger down the neverending highway, at the soft glow. As weak as the light was, it was a sign that  _ someone  _ was out there. As the brothers drew closer, they discovered the source of the glow was indeed a house. Genji hung back while Hanzo went to knock on the door.

After three doorbell rings and a minute of on and off knocking, the poor resident cracked the door open.

“Hello?” came a voice. From Genji’s point of view, plus the fact that only a shred of the room inside was open to him, he couldn’t tell anything about the person. From their voice, he could figure that they were a man, but that really wasn’t much help. 

“Ah.. Hello,” Hanzo responded. “My brother and I have gotten ourselves lost, and we were wondering if we could come in to get our bearings and-”

Hanzo was cut off by the large door being thrown open. “Sweet Jesus! How long have you an’ your brother been out here?”

“Since… sunset, perhaps?”

“Dear Lord… come inside, it must be cold…”

Their savior rushed back the home, and the brothers followed tentatively. It was a nice place, though Genji was too tired to admire the decor. The owner of the house hurried back to Hanzo and Genji, arms full of blankets and pillows. In the light of the house, Genji looked him over; he appeared to be in his twenties, tall, friendly looking. He wore a flannel the color of a firetruck, and his hair was mussed up like he had just been asleep.

“The big recliner is real comfortable, one of you can use that, and the couch is a pullout. Not the best, sorry, but it’s all I got for tonight,” informed Flannel, gesturing to a worn leather recliner by an empty fireplace. Without waiting for Hanzo’s input, Genji flopped down on the recliner, sinking into the broken-in leather. Flannel chuckled, and tossed a sleek pillow and a fleece blanket his way. Hanzo began to work on setting up the pullout. 

“Alright, I’ll see y’all in the morning. G’night.” And with that, Flannel flicked off the lamp illuminating the room and lumberred away presumably to his bedroom. 

A few seconds of silence passed, before Genji asked, “Did he seriously just say ‘y’all’?” Hanzo snorted, and whispered, “Get some rest, Genji.”

Genji was more that happy to comply. The strangeness of how willing Flannel was to let two strangers sleep in his home never once crossed his mind, and in seconds of curling up under his blanket, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.    
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noot noot, another character! hopefully it'll be more exciting from here on out. i love writing from genji's point of view, he's so whiny.  
> this chapter is a lot shorter that the last, sorry about that.


	3. The Questionnaire of Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was a lot of fun.

Hanzo, though he would never admit it, but he was not a stranger to waking up in unfamiliar places. He and Genji often went out exploring in the city together, so when Genji had a ridiculous idea, Hanzo was roped in. Multiple times he had woken up next to some person (male or female, Hanzo didn’t care) with only vague memories of them from the night before. He’d never forget when he woke at Genji’s bedside in the ER, his beloved brother having lost his arm.

That morning, however, was completely different.

For starters, Hanzo was able to clearly remember the events of the night before. He had gotten lost with Genji, in the desert… what else? His recollection of the events were fading like a dream.  _ Not that different, I guess, _ he thought.

At least, thank God, Hanzo was not incredibly hungover. He was alone in his makeshift bed, feeling nothing but sore. Very, very sore.

He propped himself up on his forearms, taking in his surroundings. He lay on a pullout couch, a mess of blankets strewn over his legs and falling off his torso. The room around him was simple, with cream-colored walls and a deep walnut floor. There was an empty fireplace made of stone bricks, and a large, worn, leather recliner slouched next to it. A small lamp with a roughly sculpted base and a thatched shade illuminated the room with a warm glow. Sharp, unhindered sunlight pierced in through cracks in the window-shades. 

He sat up fully, noticing the sizzle of something cooking coming from down a hallway, and what was probably the kitchen. He got to his feet, ignoring the prickle of sleep wearing off his legs, and padded towards the sound.

Breakfast was the best thing Hanzo had ever eaten, and he hadn’t even tasted it yet. Just the smell was enough to make him throw out any worries regarding the resident (or residents, he supposed) of the foreign house. 

A man stood by a stove, whistling to himself. He wore plain grey sweatpants and a maroon shirt decorated with a geometric pattern around the sleeves. His hair was long, for a guy, anyways, and at first it appeared to be a bland shade of brown. As Hanzo watched, however, he noticed little flickers of mahogany, fleeting highlights of gold, deep swirls of chestnut mixed in with pools of sepia.

Hanzo blinked, bringing his thoughts back on track. He approached the man, who had still not noticed him, and tapped his shoulder gently.

He spun around a little too quickly, as if he had been waiting for Hanzo to get up for hours. 

Hanzo gulped. The stranger was almost a head taller than him, and Hanzo had to crane his neck to meet his eyes. He wore a small smile, framed by his beard, which was unkempt and perfectly trimmed at the same time. 

What caught Hanzo’s attention the most were his eyes. They were bright and filled with life, like a whole other soul lived within them. The color of the irises shifted just as the man’s hair did, like deep pools of swirling amber and bronze. They had an almost machine-like precision in the way they moved.

“You’re awake! I made omelettes,” he declared, his enthusiasm frightening Hanzo a bit. He gestured to a seat at the table off to the side of the room. Hanzo sat, confused as to what to say.

The man walked over, setting down a plate filled with eggs, cheese, and other ingredients Hanzo didn’t bother to identify. He then sat across from Hanzo.

“I forgot to introduce myself, didn’t I. The name’s Jesse Mccree, but you can just call me Jesse.” He extended an arm across the table.

Hanzo took his hand and shook it. “H- Hanzo Shimada.” Inwardly, he roared at himself for letting some attractive man make him forget  _ his own name. _ Outwardly, he gave Jesse a little smile in hopes that it overshadowed his mistake.

“I apologize for the rough introduction to this place. You’re currently in Deadlock Gorge, home of the one and only Panorama Diner.”

Hanzo had never even heard of a diner called Panorama. He didn’t mention it.

The conversation was soon put aside to make way for eating. Hanzo hadn’t realized how famished he was. He finished the entire massive omelette in minutes, barely even chewing it.

“Alright, I hate to confuse you on your first day, but you’re gonna have to go out on your own for a little,” Jesse explained after Hanzo had finished. “Down the road there’s a place called ‘Big Earl’s’- can’t miss it. Topaz will be there, you’ll have to talk to her.”

Hanzo wanted to ask,  _ first day of what? _ , but he was unable to before Jesse stood up.

He gave Hanzo a reassuring smile, then promptly walked away, his footsteps muffled by the cactus-patterned socks he wore.

 

***

 

Last night, Hanzo had sworn only Jesse’s house lay in his path. Now, there was an entire city, not unlike the one he had explored only yesterday, strewn along the highway. Hanzo didn’t pay his surrounding much attention. Just looking at them bewildered him. 

After only a small distance of sore walking, he came upon Big Earl’s. It wasn't remarkable in any way, just a faded, beaten down repair shop. In the front sat a couple rusted gas pumps. The place looked like it hadn’t been used in years.

Pushing open the doors to the garage took no small degree of effort. The only place Hanzo had seen doors that heavy were in the section of Tucson designed for omnics, but the garage struck him as an odd place to have an omnic owner. The heat of the desert coupled with dust would make it difficult for them to function. 

As he stepped inside, he was met with a wall of cold air. It appeared to be an empty garage, with a couple piles of tires and propane cans. The room was dark, save for a faint glow emitting from a corner desk covered in screens. Upon looking closer, they were some type of primitive holopad. They looked like they could date back to 2030 or 40. 

Sitting in a small chair at the desk was an omnic, completely absorbed in their work. They fidgeted constantly, drumming their fingers on the desk, tapping their foot on the grimy concrete floor. Their focus flitted from screen to screen. 

Hanzo cleared his throat to get the omnic’s attention.

They swiveled with mechanical precision in their chair, turning to face Hanzo. They looked like most civilian omnics, with a thin stature, mouthpiece the color of dingy gold, and segmented joints. They wore a t-shirt obviously designed for humans and khaki shorts, which were too large for their skeleton-like legs. The lights on their forehead that indicated health were arranged in a v-shape and shone a soft gold. 

Their eyes were unlike any omnic Hanzo had ever seen. Instead of indented marks, or shaped lights, they were tiny displays. Each eye was an oval of gold, which changed to a small line to imitated blinking, and flicked around just as a human’s eye would. It was the most expression Hanzo had ever seen on an omnic.

The omnic slowly stood. Placing each step with intense labor and caution, they padded closer, golden eyes still fixated on Hanzo. Their movements reminded him of a snake, hypnotizing its victim before it struck. Soon, they stood only a foot away from Hanzo, and despite the omnic’s small stature, they intimidated Hanzo in a way he’d never felt before. But, based on the way they moved, they was every bit as scared of him.

Then, quickly as a venus fly trap snares its prey, the omnic’s arm shot up to Hanzo’s face. He moved to defend himself, but they were simply too quick. So Hanzo stood, arms raised in defense, as the omnic placed a single finger on the tip of his nose. Both stood in shock for a second, before the omnic drew away then shouted in joy, “You’re actually real!”

Hanzo didn’t have time to determine the omnic’s gender from their voice before he was wrapped in crushing metal arms and lifted off the ground in a suffocating hug. 

“Holy shit, I thought I was legit hallucinating! Okay, so you’re actually real! Welcome to Big Earl’s, by the way.”

Hanzo decided the omnic was a she. She bounced on her heels, studying him with those piercing eyes.

“Ohmygod, how could I forget? You must be the new guy! Did Jesse send you?” she implored, taking Hanzo’s hand and leading him closer to the desk.

He resisted, pulling his arm out of the omnic’s reach. “Yes, he did. Do you know of a Topaz?”

She stared at him for a second, then giggled. “Yes, idiot!  _ I’m  _ Topaz!

“Oh.”

She grabbed Hanzo’s hand again, this time pulling him to the desk so forcefully his arm almost dislocated.

“Soooo, because you’re new to Deadlock Gorge, you’re gonna hafta fill out a questionnaire. Its pretty short, nothing to worry about. You might wanna take a seat- are there other chairs in here? I don’t know…” Topaz continued rambling as she opened up another screen in front of her. She was using some frankenstein-esque combination of different holopads, all older than Hanzo was. The screens hovered in the air, but they were opaque, and were connected to material keyboards, which meant they were made before interactable holograms were developed. Which meant they were  _ old. _

“These things are ancient, so it’ll probably take a while to boot up.” She hesitated a little, before saying, “Sorry I talk so much.”

Hanzo gulped, before reassuring, “Your talking is fine. Why do you use such old systems?”

“For some reason, probably all the weird energy of the area or something, technology made after a certain date, I think it’s 2038, just doesn’t work. Cars break down, prosthetics shut off, holopads lose any connection. We just use whatever we can.”

“Then… how do you live here?”

“Honestly, I’m just lucky. There were, like, five models of me ever made. Three of ‘em were killed right off the bat by extremist gangs that hide out in King’s Row. Me and the other, I think his name was Emerald or something, stayed safe in the Underworld.

“Eventually Emerald-What’s-His-Face disappeared, we all just kinda assumed he was dead, and then i got a really strong compulsion to go to America. Specifically, the middle of the Mojave Fucking Desert. So I went! I just kinda ended up in Deadlock Gorge, not dead or shut down or whatever. Still, living here is still bad for my wiring, and I hallucinate a lot.”

Topaz’s explanation only produced hundreds more questions he wanted to ask. Before he could get out a word, the questionnaire had loaded on the holopad screen.

“Okay! First question- well, it’s not exactly a question, but still. What is your first and last name?”

“Hanzo Shimada.”

“No middle name?”

“No.”

“What about nicknames?”

“No.”

“Man, you’re no fun. Alright next question: Have you done drugs before?”

Hanzo frowned at the question. He’d only tried any sort of drugs once, and it was when Genji had lost his arm. 

“Yes, once.”

“What kind?”

Hanzo hesitated, then answered, “Ecstasy.”

Topaz whistled. “Whoa. And did it result in the loss of any limbs?”

“Not me, my brother.”

Topaz leaned back in her chair, and continued firing off volleys of absurd and unrelated questions. Some, which included, “Have you ever partaken in any seances?”, “Do you prefer square or rounded glasses on people?”, and “Did your birth father have a name that began with the letter F?” were so strange that Hanzo wondered if the whole questionnaire was a joke. After dozens of strange questions and curt answers, Topaz announced, “Last question!”

Hanzo sighed in relief.

“Are you a top or bottom?”

All relief in Hanzo’s mind disappeared.

“Am I  _ what? _ ”

“Whoa, you’re scary. Are you a top or bottom?”

“What the hell, Topaz.”

“Look, I didn’t write it, Gabriel did! I’m just the one who keeps everything in check!”

Hanzo huffed, defeated. 

“Switch.”

“Oh, okay. Well, you’re all done! Thanks for, like, listening and stuff.”

“No problem,” Hanzo huffed, and walked out of the garage, Topaz at his heels. She was like a small, clingy dog. Not that Hanzo was opposed to some company, she was just… to loud for him. He only realized how cold Topaz kept it inside the room until he emerged into the unforgiving desert sun. 

To his surprise, Genji was standing by one of the gas pumps, looking as if he were waiting for someone. 

“Oh!” shouted Topaz, her golden eye displays widening. “You must be… another new guy? Well, Hanzo, you go out and explore the town or something. I’ll take care of him.”

Topaz grabbed Genji by the wrist, the same way she had grabbed Hanzo. As Genji was dragged past him, Hanzo mouthed, “ _ Good luck”. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mighta squeezed most of this out the day I uploaded, because I am determined to keep a consistent upload schedule. I also listened to zaba by glass animals on repeat while writing most of this, great album. if you find any mistakes, please let me know lmao


	4. The Only Music Store In a Fifty Mile Radius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun with psychedelic stuff.

Genji woke up feeling like a bus had parked on top of him while he slept. His mouth tasted of sleep and his bones creaked when he moved. Not only that, but his prosthetic arm prickled with fried nerves every time it swung limply, and his real arm (not to mention  _ everything else _ ) was cardboard-stiff and sorer than that one time he had fallen into a planter full of cacti. 

He didn’t remember anything from last night except for lots and lots of desert. He didn’t particularly want to remember.

Genji had no idea where he had woken up, either, but he didn’t mind. He had developed the ability to tell exactly what kind of person owned a house by their furniture. It came in handy after one-night stands and the such.

After about five seconds of taking in the warm colors and eye-pleasing patterns of his surroundings, Genji noticed the distinct smell of cinnamon. That made his process a lot  simpler; after another five seconds of observation he decided he was getting very strong “Attractive Man” vibes. Possibly “Attractive Gay Man”.

Genji glanced over at his poor brother, who lay in deep sleep, hair tangled and feet poking out from under his knit blanket. Genji was pansexual, and did have a preference of men, but he at least had standards. Hanzo, meanwhile, was a flaming homosexual and a sappy, lonely idiot who had a bad habit of falling head-over-heels for complete strangers. Genji wanted to be miles away from that house before his brother woke up, or risk watching him drool over some guy all day.

So, only minutes after sunrise, Genji slipped out of his pullout bed, out the door, and into the surrounding town without a word to his brother or the owner of the house. Hanzo wouldn’t worry; Genji pulled the stunt all the time.

If he had been asked yesterday, Genji would have said the most surreal place, a place where reality felt the most altered, was that dusty old ghost town Hanzo had dragged him to. Now, as his beat-up sneakers pattered over cracked pavement, he would change his answer to this newfound town. 

The road was broken and covered in potholes, and the painted traffic lines were fading with age. On either side of the road, great walls of orange-brown stone clawed up to the brightening sky. One set of spires reached higher than the rest, and perched precariously on top of them was a massive boulder, creating a landform straight out of an old western movie. Small shops lined the street, all of them looking run-down and like they hadn’t seen customers in months. Paint was fading and chipping, planks of wood spanned between rooftops, which was probably easier than dodging all the holes in the sidewalk, and anything metal had a fine layer of rust. He actually saw a motel that offered “ _ Full color television!”.  _ Not a single person passed him while Genji strolled through the streets. Shreds of white sunlight peeked over the tops of the canyon wall, dashing the town with early morning light. 

In fact, the whole place had that early-morning feel about it; that feeling when the world is still asleep, and the air carries fog from far off with it, and everything feels quiet, empty, and renewed. 

The silence of the new town was unnerving. It pressed on his eardrums and pulled at the hairs on his neck. Nothing was awake, not even the wind. Like the world was hiding from him. Why hide from him? He wasn’t that frightening, was he?

Eventually, a certain shop caught his eye. A bold sign, the color of limes, announced, “SANTOS & SONG MUSIC STORE”. From the grimy window, he could see dozens of displays of instruments, and walls lined with posters.

A bell over the door jangled as Genji stepped inside. The store was a pleasant contrast to the emptiness outside. Guitars, electric and acoustic, hung off of any space on the low ceiling, like vines of polished wood. Set up in narrow rows around the shop were displays of every other instrument; keyboards, drums, bass, old (from about 2020) synthesizers, and everything else. Shown off in a corner were record players and dozens of albums to accompany them. In another corner, a counter with a couple cashiers was located, overshadowed by the sheer amount of posters on the wall behind it. No one stood at the counter. The whole store was filled with the sound of a song Genji recognized but couldn’t name. It was cluttered, but there was a method to the madness.

He was admiring a striking red-brown electric guitar when a high voice interrupted him.

“Who are  _ you _ ?”

He turned to see a short girl who looked like a teenager glaring at him. She looked perfectly normal, with brown hair to her waist and a pale complexion, except for one detail; on her face, stretching across her cheeks like whiskers, were sickly pink scars. They were perfect lines, like they had been painted on, but were made of marred flesh and tissue. 

She glared at him even more. Her scars appeared to shift to a darker pink. “What are you looking at? Answer!” she demanded. 

Genji clawed for a response, his mind gone blank.

“I’m… uh… Genji. That’s my name. Genji.”

The girl narrowed her eyes at him, then growled, “I’ve never seen you before. How did you get here?!”

“I walked to the store, with my feet.”

Genji was thankfully saved from his interrogation by another voice from the back of the store.

“Hana, let him be. He’s just trying to look at the instruments, and you had to go and give him anxiety! What if he’s just the new guy?”

Hana whirled around to the direction of the voice. “Check the calendar, Lu!” she shouted. “It’s the middle of  _ May! _ Hasn’t Jack drilled the dates for the new residents into you?”

“...No?”

Hana stormed away, probably to argue with the other. Genji didn’t follow. The two bickered for a minute before Hana strutted back to the front, someone in tow.

That someone was possibly the prettiest man Genji had ever seen. The only way Genji could think to describe him was a ray of sunshine put into a human’s body. He was short, only barely taller than Hana (who had the stature of a teenager). Still, he radiated confidence. Little scars that were probably from acne pockmarked his dark skin, revealed by the crop top he wore that could barely be defined as a shirt. His eyes were somewhat obscured by round, green-tinted glasses, but they still sparkled with youth and energy. His hair was a puff of curls, contained by a bright green hairband. An ebony-colored tattoo of a frog circled his upper arm.

Hana pointed a polished finger at him. “Look at him, Lucio! He’s obviously from outside the hotspot, and it’s May! It might be the right year, but if he was truly a new resident then he would show up in August,  _ not  _ May.”

Lucio tilted his head. “Yeah, yeah, that a little odd… I can ask Topaz about it later. Go rearrange the displays or whatever you do, and stop scaring this poor dude.”

Lucio waved Hana off, then turned to Genji. “Well, sorry about that. Welcome to the Santos & Song Music Store, the best supplier of sound in the area!”

“Lu, the only reason we’re the best is because we’re the only music store in a fifty mile radius,” Hana called from somewhere in the shop.

“Ignore her. Even though she’s the ‘Song’, I make all the music. She just keeps the place from collapsing.”

Hana yelled from the back of the shop, “You depend on me to run this place, Lu, shut your privileged ass up.”

Shaking his head, Lucio asked, “What’s your name? I’m gonna need it if you’re gonna buy anything.”

Genji wanted to ask  _ why _ his name was needed, but figured it was probably something important. 

“Genji Shimada.”

Lucio smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Welcome!” he exclaimed, then trotted off, probably to argue with Hana more. Genji chased after him, spurred on by curiosity.

“Hey, Lucio?” he asked. “You said made music, right? What kind? Maybe I’ve heard you.”

“I don’t think you’d like it… and also... I’m pretty obscure! No one’s heard of me.”

“Come on!” Genji pressured. “Play me a song, maybe I’ve heard it on the radio”

Lucio, who had been holding eye contact with Genji moments before, looked at the floor, then nervously at Hana. Hana wore a devilish grin.

“Yeah, Lu”, she sneered. “Play Green Hair here a song.”

Lucio gulped, then muttered, “Yeah… ok. Sure thing.”

A rush of guilt flooded through Genji. He hadn’t meant to make Lucio feel bad, just get some information! He was so good at fucking things over.

Lucio led him behind the counter into a little room filled with all the equipment for recording. Soundboards padded the walls, absorbing their footsteps. On a small wooden table sat an outdated holopad and a couple speakers. A mic hung overhead, and a single stool stood alone in the corner. Filling almost all of the available floor space, were random household objects. Pots, wooden spoons, stacks of books, papers, woven hats, and more. Two things seemed off the most; the lack of actual instruments, and the age of the actual equipment. None of the tech could have been made before 2040, just like everything in the store outside. 

Lucio hopped over a precariously balanced tower of tape rolls, then settled down on the stool. Genji stood behind him.

“Okay, I’m gonna play one of my most recent songs. Fair warning, though, it's pretty bad,” he informed Genji. Genji nodded.

Lucio selected a song called “Hypnagogic”, then pressed play.

Every worry in Genji’s mind was erased. Any fears, doubts, whisperings of anxiety were washed away. The song’s throbbing bass pushed his heartbeat to his ears, then slammed it to his shoes, then shoved it into his throat. He felt like he was being crushed by an invisible weight, then suddenly it lifted and he was lighter than air. Swirling synths lifted him from his body and brought his conscious into its arms, gentle and comforting. Vines of pulsing colors and lights wormed across his vision, wrapping around his arms and legs.  _ Stay with us,  _ they said.  _ Stay and you can sleep forever. Stay young forever. _ A deep, tribal drum pounded from all around him. A string of sound curled up next to his ear, and whispered,  _ Aren’t you tired? Sleep and we can heal you.  _ Genji obeyed, his eyes slipping shut.

The song shut off, and he crashed back to earth. 

Lucio grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him gently. He was shouting something, but it was muffled by the sound of feedback in Genji’s ears. He blinked, shook his head, took a deep breath.

“I’m alive. Let me go.”

Lucio sighed with relief. “I’m sorry, man,” he said, eyes turned to his feet. “My music kinda… does that sometimes. I haven’t tested that song on anyone yet”

Genji stared, confused. “What would you have to test for?”

“Well, sometimes, certain songs have side effects other than wild out-of-body experiences. A couple can heal, some can provide a lot of energy, a couple work in reverse and bring your soul back into your body. A couple can even…” He trailed off.

“Can even what?” Genji prompted.

“One or two I’ve written can cause two people to fall in love, but I’m sure it’s not this one, and you’re probably perfectly safe because i excluded a certain whirr in the background of the fall-in-love ones, so don’t worry.” Lucio offered a little smile.

Genji wanted to kiss Lucio’s perfectly painted nails and tell him,  _ I’m perfectly fine with falling in love with you _ . He nodded instead. 

Once they emerged back into the shop, Hana smirked at the duo.

“How’d it go, boys?” she questioned smugly.

Lucio opened his mouth to answer, but Genji shouted, “It was amazing! Lucio is a really talented composer.”

To say Lucio looked surprised was an understatement. He then blushed and looked at the ceiling. 

“Stop it, I’m not that good,” he murmured, a glee barely masked in his words.

“Anyways, while you losers were probably fucking, I contacted Topaz. She says she needs to talk to Genji right away. So, Green Hair, head over to this nasty old gas station called “Big Earl’s”. It's right down the road, you can't miss it,” Hana informed. Genji valiantly chose to ignore her “probably fucking” comment.

Hana and Lucio wished him goodbye as he left the shop, wincing at the heat outside. He padded off in the direction Hana had given him.

Back inside the shop, Hana turned to Lucio. 

She giggled, the said, “You totally like him. Don’t even try to deny it.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my deepest apologies for the delay in uploading! i had family over and it was difficult to work on. the songs I imagine playing in Santos & Song are Poplar St. and any stripped tracks from ZABA. please tip me off if there are any mistakes!
> 
> edit: i apologize is this chapter doesn't really feel on-par with three,,,,, i rushed most of this out in a day and i didn't have time to polish it as i wished. i hope it's not a big deal, i just felt bad for such a lame chapter haha


	5. Maybe the Monster Had Killed Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gave up on an upload schedule, sorry

At this point, Hanzo had given up trying to understand the world around him. He was currently walking, by the instruction of an omnic who shouldn’t be alive, through a town that didn’t exist. He had never dissociated before, and now seemed like the worst time to, but as he walked his arms and legs began to move on their own, and his consciousness seemed to float above his body.

Somehow, the sun had dipped low in the horizon again. How, Hanzo had no idea. It had only been late morning when he left Jesse’s house, and Topaz’s interrogation hadn’t lasted that long. The thought only crossed his mind once, however. He decided it was easier to stop thinking about things.

If anything, he felt a bit helpless. He was hopelessly lost, which he attributed to the town’s winding layout and  _ not _ his own confusion. Streets seemed to appear and vanish with no warning, and Hanzo noticed shops he hadn’t seen the first time he had passed the streets by. 

There was not a single resident to ask for directions, either. The only movement on the barren road (besides Hanzo) were swirls of dust, spurred on by gusts of burning wind. He wandered alone, lost, and on the verge of astral projection.

He was wondering if he should venture into a dodgy looking bar, called “The Bright Side”, to ask for directions, when he heard a low scraping sound from behind him. He stayed in place, as his mentor taught him years ago, to see if the sound would occur again. When it did, a faint shuffle against concrete, he spun sharply on his heels.

Nothing was there.

Every hair on his neck stood on end. He felt a massive, looming presence behind him, like someone had suddenly stepped behind him and was breathing down his neck. Which was odd, because he had just been looking there, hadn’t he?  _ No one _ escapes his perception that easily.

Unreasonable fear coursed through his veins, making time stand still. He turned, excruciatingly slowly, to face his threat.

Standing, in the middle of the road, was a creature unlike anything Hanzo had ever seen. It had the stature of a large coyote, but had greasy black fur. Chunks of fur and skin appeared to be missing, showing patches of exposed bone. Other parts of the creature’s body were adorned with bones, like a skeletal suit of armor. Some of the remains were pearly white, some were caked with dirt, and some had hunks of meat still clinging on. It snarled, showing off razor like teeth. It leaned back on its haunches, but stood resolute, like a statue.

Hanzo stood, paralyzed with fear. The creature took a few steps forward. When each of its torn paws touched the ground, Hanzo’s heart thumped in his throat. It locked eyes, with him, except it didn’t have eyes; only hollow sockets filled with darkness. He stood, staring at the monster, not daring to move.

He slowly became aware that his heart no longer pounded in his ears. His breath was no longer harsh and frantic-- where was it? His breath and heartbeat had vanished. Maybe he was dead. Maybe the monster had killed him.

Feeling a desperate need to break eye contact with the creature, he glanced to his left. There he saw himself, standing rigid and staring wide-eyed at the thing in front of him. The other Hanzo’s face went slack suddenly, and he dropped to his knees.

_ I should help him, _ Hanzo thought, but his legs would not move. He was paralyzed, lacking feelings and a pulse. Was the monster going to kill him? He could see it drawing nearer to the other Hanzo’s body. His vision became blurry. His thoughts grew muddled.

Six gunshots came from somewhere. The creature stumbled. Three more shots and the skull that guarded its head broke. Three more shots and the monster was dead. 

The last thing Hanzo was aware of was his name being called, and a blurry figure who threw off golden rays of light rushing to the other Hanzo’s body.

Then his eyes stopped seeing, his ears stopped hearing, and everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short, rip. i gave up on an upload schedule because I felt like chapters were coming out rushed. listened to exxus by GA while writing most of this, really helped.


	6. Very Gay and Very Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh yeah i finally updated this

Jesse Mccree considered himself a fairly smart man. Growing up in a gang, he learned how to survive in the streets before he knew his multiplication tables. When he first arrived, he was quickly able to adapt to the weirdness of Deadlock Gorge, and memorized the  ever-changing street layout in a week. He was quick, clever, and sly. Unless, of course, an attractive man was involved.

When those two strangers, weary and weather-beaten, showed up at his door, he should have turned them down. He should have followed everything his “adoptive dad” Gabriel had drilled into his head, and shut them out. 

_ “The way this works, kid, _ ’ he had explained, “ _ Is that every five years, there’s a period of time where folks like us can get into this town. Every five years, from August to October, this place is open to visitors, of a sort. Most years, no one shows up. When someone does arrive, they can’t leave. And if you  _ ever _ see anyone new in this town, when it isn’t between August and October of the fifth year, they are dangerous, and you should report them to me or Jack. _ ” 

Gabe had told him that so many times, warned him of the dangers of letting in strangers, but he had  _ still _ let those brothers stay in his house. All because they looked so lost, and afraid. He was an idiot.

Jesse’s excuse was that he was very gay and very lonely. It was a flimsy excuse, but anything was better than, “ _ I forgot that they were probably really dangerous and let one go out on his own while I made the other one an omelette. _ ”

And that was before the older brother woke up. Good first impressions were a priority of Jesse’s, and so he took his mind off his mounting anxiety by making sure the man, who was no doubt starving, had a nice meal. 

As soon as the man spoke, introducing himself, Jesse stopped regretting letting the brothers stay in his house. As the conversation continued, Jesse let his subconscious take control, so his rational thought could run off with admiring Hanzo. 

He was so preoccupied, in fact, that he didn’t realized he followed the standard “New Resident” procedure until Hanzo was halfway to Big Earl’s. Which was a problem: Topaz would give him that survey, which she would then report to Gabe for evaluation. Which meant, Gabe would know about Hanzo in a few hours.

Like he had predicted, Jesse’s phone rang a short while later. 

“Jesse Mccree, you are in so much trouble,” Gabe’s voice crackled from the speaker. Not only were the phones in the Gorge landlines, but they especially hated the wraith’s voice. 

Jesse chuckled, maybe to ease his nerves, and responded, “Yeah, Yeah, I know. Look, I can explain-”

“I don’t want any excuses, cowboy, I want everyone in this town to be safe from the monsters you might’ve just released. So go out and find both of them, and bring them to me. We’ll talk then.” With that, Gabe hung up.

He took his trusty revolver, expecting the worst. What he found was somehow even more horrifying. After only five minutes of roaming Deadlock’s ever changing streets, he found Hanzo, crumpled in the middle of the road, with a  _ cadáver del desierto  _ slowly prowling closer.  _ Cadáver del desierto  _ was only his and Gabe’s name for the creatures. They went by many names, each depending on the person who spoke of them, but one thing was always the same; while the residents of Deadlock were caught in a limbo between human and supernatural, the  _ cadáveres  _ were monsters made of fear, superstition, and everything else that humans cannot understand. 

Jesse was glad he brought his revolver. In two rounds, the monster was dead. 

Jesse rushed to Hanzo and scooped the smaller man up in his arms. He searched frantically for the man’s pulse, which he found in his neck. It was alarmingly shallow. Jesse now had a different problem on his hands; while the  _ cadáver del desierto  _ having effect on him meant that he was in fact not some kind of monster, it also meant that Hanzo’s soul was only barely tethered to his body. As soon as the soul was gone, Hanzo would wither away.

He carried Hanzo back to his house as quickly as he could. Waiting there for them was Gabe, who’s only explanation was “Felt something was up”. Jesse laid Hanzo on his couch, where he had been sleeping only hours before. 

Gabe pressed his ear to Hanzo’s chest, checking for a heartbeat. He straightened again, looking resigned, and reported, “His heartbeat’s barely there. You’re lucky you got there when you did, otherwise the  _ cadáver _ would have had him. I need to get the stuff for bringing him back, wait here.” Gabe took a step forward and dissolved into smoke, his usual way of getting around.

Jesse felt like he was the only resident of the town whole just walked. Gabe did his smoke-thing, Angela and Fareeha would just fly, Lucio skated everywhere, and Hana could just warp reality so she could reach places in an instant. Speaking of Hana, she now stood beside Jesse, staring down at Hanzo. 

“I didn’t know there was a second new resident,” she said with mild interest, arms crossed.

Jesse arched an eyebrow at her. “You met the other one?” he asked, a spike of nausea piercing his heart.

“Mhm! He and Lucio are totally in love, it’s disgusting,” she replied, a mischievous smile painted across her face.

“Where is he? You didn’t let him go off on his own, did you?”

“Isn’t that exactly what you did?”

Jesse sighed. “Just tell me,” he grumbled.

“I sent him to Topaz, just as all residents are instructed to.”

Jesse didn’t have time to complain, because someone was pounding on his door. He opened it to Lucio, who was cradling his sound system in his arms.

“Gabe sent me. Apparently my music is needed,” He explained, before pushing past Jesse and into his house. Jesse returned to see Gabe stringing dreamcatchers and beads around his living room. Lucio began setting up his speakers, and Hana summoned popcorn from somewhere (probably a movie theater across the state) and sat in Jesse’s recliner.

“Ok guys,” Lucio explained, “The music’s gonna bring his soul back into his body. It’ll do the opposite to you, though, so you’ll pretty much black out through the whole thing. The dreamcatchers and beads make sure your soul won’t go anywhere.”

Jesse had been through the process before, when a  _ cadáver  _ had almost killed Lena. He took a deep breath, preparing himself.

Gabe looked around, the announced, “Ok, music starts in three, two, one.”

Lucio hit a button on his speakers. Jesse’s vision was suddenly thrown upside down, then he blacked out.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna be camping for the next five days, so no update for like two weeks. my instragram is @sunsgone, I post my art and complain about my hobbies. check it out


	7. "I Can Explain-"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i am still alive!! short chapter, i've been drawing a lot. takes up a lot of time, surprisingly

Sometimes, Genji liked to take a step back and wonder how he had gotten into a situation. The more messed up the situation, the farther he would have to travel back to figure out where it all went wrong. 

It had all started when Hanzo had learned of the ghost towns and, more specifically, the “Omnic Graveyard”, an old war site where hundred of lifeless metal corpses were left to rust, that were scattered throughout the desert. Then he had gone and dragged Genji into their clunky hovercar, and left Tucson with some bottled water and a camera.

Then, the car had broken down for some strange reason, and he was forced to walk along the highway, and then came the chunk of his memory that was fuzzy, like a dream.

He had come to in a stranger’s house, and left before his brother woke up. Then, he had wandered the surrounding town until he found a store that caught his eye, where the beautiful shop owner named Lucio had put him into a trance with his music. The other owner, Hana, had sent him to someone named Topaz, who turned out to be an extremely talkative omnic with a tendency to hallucinate. 

Now, he sat, notably distracted, as Topaz loaded something on her outdated setup. 

“Hey Topaz?” Genji asked, gazing out the small window in the top of the garage wall.

“Mmyeah, What’s up?” She responded, swiveling in her chair to face him.

“How is it already sunset? I woke up at, like, dawn, and I’ve been out for about an hour, it’s already the end of the day. What’s up with that?”

Topaz shrugged, turning back to her desk. “Time around here just kinda does that,” she responded simply. “Sometimes days are really long, other times they’re unnaturally short. No one really know why.” 

Genji shook his head. Another thing to add to the list of reasons why this town was messed up.

Whatever Topaz was booting up finished opening, and she excitedly turned back to Genji. 

“Ok, so I have a questionnaire thingy that you have to fill out, it’s mandatory, please answer honestly! First, I need your full name,” she said gleefully, and so quickly that Genji barely caught her words.

“Genji Shimada,” he replied curtly.

“Any nicknames?”

Without even thinking, Genji blurted out, “Pussy slayer.”

Topaz didn’t miss a beat, just tapped it into the holopad.

Genji choked down a fit of giggles, hoping Topaz wouldn’t notice. She didn’t and simply continued with the questionnaire. Genji only answered in vague or downright stupid answers, which, if she even noticed, Topaz never pointed out. In retaliation, the questions became more outlandish, as if they were trying to outdo him. 

Eventually, Topaz announced, “Last Question! If you were a fruit, what kind would you be?”

“Pineapple-- No, a dragon fruit. Obviously,” he replied. 

Topaz’s eye displays flattened into a slant, her version of a grin. “All done!” she exclaimed. “We'll start working on housing for you and your brother right away. For now, go ahead and explore, and stay out of trouble.”

And without time to mention he had no need for housing, Genji was cast back into the winding streets.

The sun had dipped lower still in the horizon, and he figured he should find some shelter. He considered going back to Santos & Song, but decided instead to return to Jesse’s house. Hanzo would no doubt be there.

After a bit of retracing his steps, Genji found the house. He hadn't noticed last night, but it was built directly into the orange canyon walls, like it had been swallowed by the rock. 

The door was unlocked, so he walked right in. 

The first thing he noticed was,  _ Hey, this song isn’t so bad. Dunno why it’s playing in Jesse’s living room, but pretty good nonetheless. _

And then he saw the unconscious bodies of Jesse, Hana, Hanzo, and some other man crumpled in Jesse’s various chairs and couches. Standing in the middle of them all was Lucio, his eyes wide with shock.

“I can explain-”, Lucio shouted, but it did him no good. Genji rushed to his brothers side, staring in befuddlement.

“Is he dead?”, he cried. Lucio waved his hands in a panicked motion.

“No, no- well, almost, but no, he’s just passed out and-”

Lucio cut himself off, rushing to Genji’s side to hold him up. A spell of dizziness had passed through him, and his legs had given out beneath him.

“M-m’fine,” Genji muttered, his legs shaking as he leaned against Lucio. He was very obviously not fine.

Lucio helped him over to the couch, which Genji collapsed into. 

“Don’t panic,” Lucio said gently, and left Genji helpless on the (admittedly comfortable) sofa. “Please,” he added. He looked at Genji with a pained expression, then adjusted something with his haphazardly set up speakers. A sharp, ear-splitting tone pierced the room, and Genji frantically covered his ears. It did no good. Stars formed behind his eyes, and after a few seconds of struggling, he passed out.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big love to everyone who's dropped comments and kudos! lucio would never commit murder in his life, don't worry. as always my IG is @sunsgone, follow to see me rant about glass animals a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> my first ever fic on Ao3! i'll try my best to upload consistently, but with finals and all it might be tough. i really just wanted to express my love for the desert and stuff so now you have this mess. hooray. hopefully the chapters will be more exciting from here on out


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